THAT NIGHT THE stars were cold and brittle, and the full moon seemed very far away. Fire bundled herself up so that she was twice as wide around as usual.

On the roof she found Brigan standing contentedly hatless in a draft. She blew warm air into her mittened hands. 'Are you immune to winter, then, Lord Prince?'

He led her to a place protected from the wind by a broad chimney. He encouraged her to lean back against the chimney. When she did, she was surprised, for it was lovely and warm, like leaning against Small. Her guard faded into the background. The tinkling sound of the drawbridge bells whispered over the rumble of the falls. She closed her eyes.

'Lady Fire,' Brigan's voice said. 'Musa told me about Mila. Would you care to tell me about my sister?'

Fire's eyes flashed open. There he was at the railing, his eyes on the city, his breath shooting out like steam. 'Hmm,' she said, too astonished to build a proper defence. 'And what would you like to know about her?'

'Whether or not she's pregnant, of course.'

'Why should she be pregnant?'

He turned then to look at her, and their eyes met. Fire had a feeling her unreadable face was not as successfully unreadable as his. 'Because outside of her work,' he said dryly, 'she's overly fond of a gamble. And she's thinner, and tonight she ate little, and turned green at the sight of the carrot cake, which I a.s.sure you is something I've never seen her do once in my life. Either she's pregnant or she's dying.' His eyes turned back to the city and his voice went smooth. 'And don't tell me the father of these babies, because then I'd be tempted to harm him, and that would be inconvenient, don't you think, what with Brocker expected, and all these people about who adore him?'

If he'd deciphered this much, then there was no point in pretense. She said mildly, 'Nor would it set an example for Hanna.'

'Humph.' He leaned his mouth on his fist. His breath steamed out in every direction. 'I take it they don't know about each other yet? And I take it I'm to keep all of it secret. Is Mila as unhappy as she looks?'

'Mila is devastated,' Fire said softly.

'I could kill him for that.'

'I believe she's too angry, or too despairing, to think straight. She won't take his money. So I'm taking it myself, and I'll hold it for her, and hope she changes her mind.'

'She may keep her job if she wants it; I won't force her out of it.

We'll work something out.' He shot her a wry glance. 'Don't tell Garan.' And then, grimly: 'Ah, Lady. It's a mean time to be welcoming babies to the world.'

Babies, Fire thought to herself. Babies to the world. She sent it out into the air: Welcome to you, babies Welcome to you, babies. And found, with great frustration, that she was crying. It seemed a symptom of her friends' pregnancies that Fire should not be able to stop crying.

Brigan was transformed from hard to soft, his hands scrambling through pockets for a handkerchief that wasn't there. He came to her. 'Lady, what is it? Please tell me.'

'I've missed you,' she blubbered, 'these past two months.'

He took her hands. 'Please tell me what's wrong.'

And then, because he was holding her hands, she told him all of it, quite simply: how desperately she wanted children, and why she'd decided she mustn't have them, and how out of fear of changing her mind, she'd arranged quietly, with Clara and Musa's help, to take the medicines that would make it forever impossible. And she hadn't recovered, not nearly, for her heart was small and shivering, and it seemed that she couldn't stop crying.

He listened, quietly, growing more and more amazed; and when she finished he was silent for some time. He considered her mittens with something of a helpless expression. He said, 'I was insufferable to you the night we met. I've never forgiven myself.'

It was the last thing Fire had expected him to say. She looked into his eyes, which were pale as the moon.

'I'm so sorry for your sadness,' he said. 'I don't know what to tell you. You must live where many people are having babies, and adopt them all. We must keep Archer around - he's quite a useful chap, really, isn't he?'

At that she smiled, almost laughed. 'You've made me feel better. I thank you.'

He gave her her hands back then, carefully, as if he were afraid they might drop to the roof and shatter. He smiled at her softly.

'You never used to look at me straight, but now you do,' she said, because she remembered it, and was curious.

He shrugged. 'You weren't real to me then.'

She wrinkled her forehead. 'What does that mean?'

'Well, you used to overwhelm me. But now I've got used to you.'

She blinked, surprised into silence by her own foolish pleasure at his words; and then laughed at herself for being pleased with the suggestion that she was ordinary.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

THE NEXT MORNING Fire walked to Nash's office with Musa, Mila, and Neel to meet the royal siblings and Archer.

The gala was only weeks away and the extent of Fire's involvement in the a.s.sa.s.sination plan was a matter of ongoing debate. To Fire's mind it was simple. She should be the a.s.sa.s.sin in all three cases because she was far more likely than anyone else to be able to lure each victim to a solitary and unguarded place, and she might also manage to learn a great deal from them before killing them.

But when she stated her case Garan argued that Fire was no sword fighter, and if any of the three proved to be strong-minded she would end up on someone's blade. And Clara did not want the a.s.sa.s.sin to be a person with no killing experience. 'You'll hesitate,' Clara said today. 'When you see what it really means to stick a knife in someone's chest, you won't be able to do it.'

Fire knew herself to be more experienced than anyone in this room save Archer realised. 'It's true I won't want want to do it,' she responded calmly, 'but when I have to, I will do it.' to do it,' she responded calmly, 'but when I have to, I will do it.'

Archer was fuming darkly in a corner. Fire ignored him, for she knew the futility of appealing to him - especially these days, when his att.i.tude toward her ranged from high dudgeon to shame, because her sympathies and her time were tied up with Mila, and he sensed it, and resented it, and knew it was his own fault.

'We can't send a novice to kill three of our most fearsome enemies,' Clara said again.

For the first time since the topic had been broached, Brigan was present in person to convey his opinion. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. 'But it's obvious she must be involved,' he said. 'I don't think Gentian'll give her much resistance, and Gunner's clever, but ultimately he's led by his father. Murgda may prove difficult, but we're desperate to learn what she knows - where Mydogg's hiding his army, in particular - and Lady Fire is the person most qualified for that job. And,' he said, raising his eyebrows to stop Clara's objections, 'the lady knows what she's capable of. If she says she'll go through with it, she will.'

Archer wheeled on Brigan then, snarling, for his mood had found what it was looking for: an outlet that was not Fire. 'Shut up, Archer,' Clara said blandly, cutting him off before he even began.

'It's too dangerous,' Nash said from his desk, where he sat gazing worriedly at Fire. 'You're the swordsman, Brigan. You should do it.'

Brigan nodded. 'All right, well, what if the lady and I did it together? She to get them to a private place and question them, and I to kill them, and protect her.'

'Except that I'll find it much harder to trick them into trusting me if you're there,' Fire said.

'What if I hid?'

Archer had been approaching Brigan slowly from across the room, and now he stood before the prince, barely seeming to breathe. 'You've no compunctions whatsoever about putting her in danger,' he said. 'She's a tool to you and you're heartless as a rock.'

Fire's temper flared. 'Don't you call him heartless, Archer. He's the only person here who believes me.'

'Oh, I believe you can do it,' Archer said, his voice filling the corners of the room like a hiss. 'A woman who can stage the suicide of her own father can certainly kill a few Dellians she's never met.'

IT WAS AS if time slowed down, and everyone else in the room disappeared. There was only Fire, and Archer before her. Fire gaped at Archer, disbelieving, and then understanding, like coldness that starts in your extremities and seeps to your core, that he truly had just said aloud the words she'd thought she'd heard.

And Archer gaped back, just as stunned. He slumped, blinking back tears. 'Forgive me, Fire. I wish it unsaid.'

But she thought it through in slow time, and understood that it couldn't be unsaid. And it was less that he'd exposed the truth, and more the way he'd exposed it. He'd accused her, he who knew all that she felt. He'd taunted her with her own shame.

'I'm not the only one who's changed,' she whispered, staring at him. 'You've changed too. You've never been cruel to me before.'

She turned, still with that sense that time had slowed. She glided out of the room.

TIME CAUGHT UP with Fire in the frozen gardens of the green house, where it occurred to her after a single shivering minute that she had a compulsive inability to remember her coat. Musa, Mila, and Neel stood quietly around her.

She sat on a bench under the big tree, great round tears seeping down her cheeks and plopping into her lap. She took the handkerchief Neel offered. She looked into the faces of her guard, one after the other. She was searching their eyes to see if behind the quiet of their minds they were horrified, now that they knew.

Each of them looked calmly back. She saw that they were not horrified. They met her eyes with respect.

It struck her that she was very lucky in her life's people, that they should not mind the company of a monster so unnatural that she'd murdered her only family.

A thick, wet snow began to fall, and finally the side door of the green house opened. Bundled in a cloak, Brigan's housekeeper, Tess, marched out to her. 'I suppose you intend to freeze to death under my nose,' the woman snapped. 'What's wrong with you?'

Fire looked up without much interest. Tess had soft green eyes, deep as two pools of water, and angry. 'I murdered my father,' Fire said, 'and pretended it was a suicide.'

Clearly, Tess was startled. She crossed her arms and made indignant noises, determined, it seemed, to disapprove. And then all at once she softened, like a clump of snow in a thaw that collapses from a roof, and shook her head, bewildered. 'That does change things. I suppose the young prince'll be telling me, "I told you so". Well, look at you, child - soaked right through. Pretty as a sunset, but no brain in your head. You didn't get that from your mother. You may as well come inside.'

Fire was mildly dumbfounded. The little woman pulled her under the cloak and pushed her into the house.

THE QUEEN'S HOUSE- for Fire reminded herself that this was Roen's house, not Brigan's - seemed a good place to soothe an unhappy soul. The rooms were small and cozy, painted soft greens and blues and full of soft furniture, the fireplaces huge, the January fires in them roaring. It was obvious a child lived here, for her school papers and b.a.l.l.s and mittens and playthings, and Blotchy's nondescript chewed-up belongings, had found their way into every corner. It was less obvious Brigan lived here, though there were clues for the discerning observer. The blanket Tess wrapped Fire in looked suspiciously like a saddle blanket.

Tess sat Fire on a sofa before the fireplace, and her guard in armchairs around their lady. She gave all of them cups of hot wine. She sat with them, folding a pile of very small shirts.

Fire shared the sofa with two monster kittens she'd never seen before. One was crimson and the other copper with crimson markings, and they were sleeping tangled together, so that it was hard to tell which head or tail belonged to which. They reminded Fire of her hair, which was bound now under a scarf that was clammy and cold. She pulled the scarf free and spread it beside her to dry. Her hair slid down, a blaze of light and colour. One of the kittens raised its head at the brightness, and yawned.

She wrapped her hands around her warm cup and blinked wearily into its steam; and found, once she'd started talking, that confession was a comfort to her small and ragged heart. 'I killed Cansrel to stop him from killing Brigan. And to stop Brigan from killing Cansrel, because that would have damaged his chance for any alliance with Cansrel's friends. And, oh, for other reasons. I doubt I need to explain to any of you why it was best for him to die.'

Tess stopped her work, her hands resting on the pile in her lap, and watched Fire closely. Her lips moved as Fire talked, as if she were testing the words in her own mouth.

'I tricked him into thinking his leopard monster was a baby,' Fire said. 'His own human monster baby. I stood outside the fence and watched him open the door of the cage, cooing to it, as if it were helpless, and harmless. The leopard was hungry. He always kept them hungry. It-it happened very fast.'

Fire went silent for a moment, struggling against the picture that haunted her dreams. She spoke with her eyes closed. 'Once I was sure he was dead, I shot the cat. Then I shot the rest of his monsters, because I hated them, I'd always hated them, and I couldn't stand them screaming for his blood. And then I called the servants, and told them he'd killed himself and I hadn't been able to stop him. I entered their minds and made full sure they believed me, which wasn't difficult. He'd been unhappy since Nax's death, and they all knew he was capable of mad things.'

The rest of the story, she kept to herself. Archer had come and found her kneeling in Cansrel's blood, staring at Cansrel, tearless. When he'd tried to pull her away she'd fought against him desperately, screamed at him to leave her alone. For several days she'd been savage to Archer, and Brocker, too, vicious, out of her mind and her body; and they'd stayed with her and taken care of her until she'd come back into herself. Then had followed weeks of listlessness and tears. They'd stayed with her through that as well.

She sat numbly on the sofa. She wanted Archer's company, suddenly, so that she could forgive him for telling the truth. It was time other people knew. It was time everyone knew what she was, and what she was capable of.

She didn't notice herself nodding off to sleep, even when Musa jumped forward to stop her drink from spilling.

SHE WOKE HOURS later to find herself stretched out on the sofa, covered in blankets, kittens sleeping in the tangle of her hair. Tess was absent, but Musa, Mila, and Neel had not moved from their seats.

Archer stood before the fireplace, his back to her.

Fire half sat up and tugged her hair out from under the kittens. 'Mila,' she said. 'You don't have to stay if you don't want to.'

Mila's voice was stubborn. 'I want to stay and guard you, Lady.'

'Very well,' Fire said, studying Archer, who'd swung around at the sound of her voice. His left cheekbone was bruised purple, which alarmed her at first, and then struck her as intensely interesting.

'Who hit you?' she asked.

'Clara.'

'Clara!'

'She whaled me one in return for upsetting you. Well,' he added, his voice dropping low. 'At least, that was the main reason. I suppose Clara has several to choose from.' He glanced at Mila, who'd suddenly taken on the look of a boxer who'd been punched in the stomach one too many times. 'This is awkward.'

By your own doing, Fire thought to him furiously, and your careless words only make it worse. They don't know about each other yet, and it's not yours to reveal their secrets. and your careless words only make it worse. They don't know about each other yet, and it's not yours to reveal their secrets.

'Fire,' he said, his eyes low and dismal. 'It's been some time since I did anyone any good. When my father arrives I won't be able to look him in the face. I'm dying to do something worthwhile, something I needn't be ashamed of, but I don't seem to be capable of it while you're within my view, and not needing me anymore, and in love with someone else.'

'Oh, Archer,' she said, and then stopped, choked up with how frustrating he was. And how funny it seemed, and sad, that he should accuse her of love, and for once in his life be right.

'I'm going west,' he said, 'to Cutter.'

'What?' she cried, dismayed. 'Now? By yourself?'

'No one's paying any attention to that boy and that archer, and I know it's a mistake. The boy's not to be trifled with, and maybe you've forgotten, but twenty-some years ago that archer was in gaol for rape.'

And now Fire was near crying again. 'Archer, I don't think you should. Wait until after the gala and let me come with you.'

'I believe it's you they're after.'